RPlog:Interrogation - Face Off
---- Main Security -- Deck 3 -- NRSD Reprisal This room serves as the center of Security aboard Reprisal. Two of the room's walls are lined with massive weapons lockers, while a third is lined with dataterminals. The lockers are constructed quite solidly of durasteel, and seem to contain weapons ranging from knives to rifles for the use of the Reprisal's Marine contingent. The terminals allow the guards on duty to monitor the ship's activities, keeping a watchful eye for signs of trouble. This area seems to be a favorite location of the Marine security force, and 10 of them can be found in here at any given time, in addition to the guards by the brig. ---- Upon receiving word that an Imperial Naval Captain had come into the custody of the New Republic Fleet, Luke summoned together some trusted friends to accompany him to the Reprisal. Johanna and Rook had flown alongside Luke, a trio of X-Wing starfighters headed for the flagship's main docking bay. By the time they have entered one of the main turbolifts, the prisoner has been processed and brought into one of the brigs located on Deck 3. As the turbolift rises, Luke continues a conversation with Johanna and Rook. Having left his Jedi cloak on Coruscant, the Jedi Master's slim form is striking in appearance with his angular tunic. "No, I'm not entirely sure who it is, but Admiral Rodriga requested that I come to conduct a preliminary investigation." He raises his eyebrows curiously. "I guess that means this prisoner is of potential importance." A pair of guards stand outside the door to the brig in which the Imperial Naval Captain is being held. Just one look is enough to take in the professional air and the extensive training these guys have gone through to be on this detail. Inside the brig, the cell that is, another pair stand just inside the door, a mirror image of the pair on the other side. Seated in the center of the room, devoid of weapons and anything that would prove useful, is Captain Caiton of the ISC Broadsword. Sitting at perfect attention and her expression blandly neutral, she holds her left arm carefully at her side, but makes no other move than that. Not one for inane chatter after all, this is one of those remarkably quiet moments. Standing at Luke's right side in the moving turbolift, Rook nods to the Jedi Master, impressed. "That's gotta be some prisoner he's got, if he wants a Jedi Master along for the 20 questions game." She shifts her helmet to a more comfortable position beneath her arm, not having had time to change out of her flight suit... she'd expected a longer trip than just up from the surface of Coruscant. She casts a glance to the third member of their group. "You gonna be okay, Johanna? You looked a little pale back there in the landing bay," Rook asks, concerned. For all appearances, the second Jedi is a Padawan again, though that's not something the tall flier holds against her. This must be the first time in a while Joh's been on a fleet ship... and the technicians Rook had seen hadn't been giving the woman welcoming looks at all. Even one or two astromechs had seemed a bit hostile, probably new units imitating the attitudes of their pilots. Gee, and they had even let her fly on over in her own starfighter. Wonders truly never cease here in the Republic. "Investigation, eh?" Johanna grunts to Luke as they wait out the ride in the lift, "Well, I guess that's one way of putting it. Whatever, I just hope I can be of some use." She seems a little taken aback by Rook's observation, though. "I'm fine," she replies, "Don't worry. I didn't take that comment from the last astromech personally. Cricket's said far worse." Except Cricket is always like that, and she's grown inured to the abuse her demented R2 unit likes to heap upon her. Those droids back there couldn't have a tenth of Cricket's evil personality, but they sure hadn't been happy to see her! Sheesh. Even the inorganic creatures are upset. Already on this level of the ship, Second Flight Officer Kesander Beysarus stands to one side, his hands folded together behind his back. The Corellian's eyes every so often flicker towards the turbo lift to mark who arrives. The entrance of Luke and the two pilots does catch his attention however. A nod of respectful greeting is offered. Well, Luke had left R2-D2 back to deal with the astromechs, and so hopefully things will be a bit more peaceful upon their return. The turbolift arrives, and Luke leads the way out, headed for the main security station and the officer in charge of the security detail. "Lieutenant," Luke greets with a bow of his head. "Fill us in on the situation?" The Lieutenant nods his head to Skywalker. "Imperial Naval Captain, named Lynae Caiton. Doctor, too, from what we understand. An ex-military officer by the name of Tal'sin managed to kidnap the Doctor from her post, in a stolen Imperial shuttle. She was acquired at O.S. Paladin and delivered here not long ago." Luke nods his head, and turns to face the others. "The name is familiar to me. Johanna? Do you know the woman?" From the way the guards straightened ever so slightly, a barely noticeable movement, Captain Caiton's eyes are drawn briefly to the door before she picks another random spot on the wall to stare at intently. Light pressure of her fingertips on her arm keep her arm firmly in place, the swelling only getting worse, again, and she makes one of those internal notes to wait for the bone to set completely before having it broken again. Those bone-knitting kits aren't particularly fun to endure. Rook nods in greeting to the lieutenant as they enter, listening with half an ear and reaching back to check Spanner's progress as he rolls up beside her, not wanting him to get ahead of them. "Doctor and Imperial Captain... that's quite a resume she's got. What else does she do?" It does fit the overqualification she's noticed among Imperial ranks, even in her own time there. What is it with amazingly intelligent people joining completely boneheaded causes? "She doesn't sound familiar... I think she was after my time with the jackboot-and-skull-helmet crowd." "Never heard of her." The pilot thinks again before shaking her head. "The name isn't familiar to me at all. Should it be? Is she wanted for war crimes or something?" You mean kind of like you, Joh? That idea brings a brief scowl to her features before they relax once more and she taps a finger on her chin in thought. "What interest does this Tal'sin have in the doctor? Far be it from me to lament the capture of an Imperial, but I do hope the Republic isn't wasting its time with someone's old personal dislike." It's happened before. In the old days, when she had been with NRI, there had been some abuses of power which the Republic would probably not like to remember. "Unknown," replies the Lieutenant to Rook's inquiry. Luke gives a nod to Johanna, having observed Rook and the Lieutenant's exchange as well. "War crimes, well, I suppose any Imperial Naval Captain is wanted for war crimes. Any member of the Empire, for that matter, if you get right down to it. This is most likely why Rodriga summoned us. We have the ability to sense Captain Caiton's motives and whether she's answering what questions we ask truthfully." He glances to Rook for a moment, then to Johanna, thoughtfully. "Johanna, if you feel comfortable making an initial inquiry, I can focuses my senses on her. We work as a team, we'll be more effective. Rook..." He glances toward the pilot at his side and says, "You'll be the one who makes sure the Captain doesn't do anything threatening, and can aide Johanna with the inquiry if you'd like." With the others agreeing, Luke heads for the cell. The trio are permitted entry, and he quietly dismisses the two guards who were standing inside. He doesn't offer a greeting himself... he'll let Johanna handle that. When the door opens, Captain Caiton is in the process of examining another minute speck on the wall. From her vantage point it appears to be some sort of metal rivet, perhaps a bolt, but definitely part of the structure required to hold the walls together. Adding this to her count, she shifts to the next one, continuing her study in silence. Stubbornly refusing to even glance at the door and who or what may have just entered, she settles in and simply waits. "Uh, Sir," says the Flight Officer, walking to the threshold of the cell and addressing his words to the Jedi Master. "Admiral Rodriga sends his complements and says he will join you all for interrogation purposes as soon as possible, but is unavoidably delayed," continues Kesander, apparently unsure whether he's supposed to salute or do something else. "He didn't say what the matter was in any event. I suppose you should begin with... well with whatever you usually do in the case of prisoners like Captain Caiton." The door opens, the guards file out, and the heroic trio steps in. Rook takes a moment to look over the captive captain. Maybe a couple of inches shorter than herself, and lacking some of the gym time, but hardly out of shape or unimposing. Even in captivity, the faint haughtiness of Imperial military culture still shows in the way she looks at none of them. No wonder the Empire has never caught on to the idea of equality... Rook takes a breath and pauses, again arresting her black and white R2 droid with one hand. Luke and Joh are more at home here, so she lets them set the pace. She'll follow it. Making an initial inquiry? Johanna nearly snorts with laughter, catching herself before the sound is ever formed and sobering up just in time to stroll on in with the other two of the party. "Hi," she offers in Lynae's general direction, finally bringing her gaze to bear on the other woman and letting her hands slide into her pockets as she puts most of her weight on her good right leg, "Well, you seem thrilled with your accomodations. I'm Joh, by the way. These two goons are Luke and Rook." Yes, she thinks, You might know us from such shows as: "Death Star I, II & III: WHEN BIG THINGS GO BOOM!" Or perhaps the ever-classic "I was a teenaged Rebel" For a moment there's that urge to laugh again, though thankfully it passes. Why does this seem so funny to her? Maybe because she's on the questioning rather than the answering end this time. "So anyway, what brings you to this fine establishment here? You finally get tired of the Empire's lines about order and glory and all that rot?" The brief, irrational thought that she'd like to shove this woman out an airlock flits through her brain. Upon entry, Luke remains silent, merely turning aside and motioning for the guards outside to close the door. Turning back, the Jedi Master clasps his hands together before him and at his waist, settling his blue gaze on the Imperial Captain. The familiarity that flickers through the Force into his mind is almost instantaneous, and it draws him to tilt his head forward slightly, gaze growing more curious. His inner eye seeks through the Force, and begins to piece together some pieces of the puzzle... she was there, on the Malevolence, but that's not truly it. No, there's something else, something darker. It strikes him as Johanna speaks. Though Luke hadn't delved into the memories of Brandis, he had endured a flashing projection of the Jedi Doctor's memories. This is one of the two who had tortured Brandis. A flash of regonition lights his eyes, and he tilts his head upright while drawing in a quiet breath of air, which would have been a hiss had he not contained himself. Captain Caiton gives it a full minute before she even shifts her gaze down from the contemplation of the spot along the wall to the new additions to the cell. Even with the drawing of her attention, it's evident from the cool expression on her face and the look in her eyes that she's either bored with the conversation already, or she's expecting this conversation to not stay in the zone of 'friendly and fluffy'. With a slight tilt of her head she gazes intently at this 'Joh' though her memory also fills in the significant, pertinent details. Such as the actions of Johanna regarding Admiral Kreldin. Her gaze moves next towards this Luke, again with the fill in the blank of profile, recognizing his features from her own recollection of the incident on the Malevolence. She arches one eyebrow finally, then makes a dry reply, "The accommodations are excellent. I'll recommend this locale to all who ask for superior vacation spots." "Great." Though she hasn't caught the entirety of Luke's realization, she's sensed enough. There is loathing there, and disgust. "It must be a change of pace from your typical workday, what with all the butchering you have to do. I mean, that stuff has to be time-consuming. How do you Imperials find enough hours in a cycle to plan and actually execute all that killing?" Her tone has grown almost singsong now. Johanna is nothing if not a little perverse when confronted with the temptation of cramming her boot down a captive Imperial's throat. It makes her slapping hand, as it were, itch. "No wait, I bet you're going to say that anyone who gets in the way of your Empire deserves what happens to them. Or are you going to put in a nice little bit about the general meaninglessness of most lives? Come on, Doctor Caiton. Amuse me." It's as if the audience were witnessing a flashback... with Johanna in the place of Anakin Skywalker, and Luke in the place of Obi-Wan Kenobi. The irony in this remains secret, of course. While the son of Anakin doesn't seem completely pleased with Johanna's approach, he cannot deny that it could be effective. Instead of scolding his 'Padawan', openly or in secret, he merely focuses his senses upon Lynae. It is a difficult task, even for a man of such prowess, for the anger he has bitten down is not entirely subdued, and the loathing for Imperial methodology clouds Luke's judgement. He spends the entirety of his effort on seeing through this clouded judgement, making sure his anger doesn't overpower his beckoning of the Force. By the time he's broached this cloud and begun to peruse the very fringe of Lynae's immersion in reality, he nearly recoils at the memories and echoes in the Force that threaten to lash out at him. As Johanna's words fade, he sets his shoulders firmly, excercises his self control, and pushes through into the Force in an attempt to read the surface thoughts, intentions, and most of all, the traces of dishonesty that come from the Imperial captive. The turbolift doors hiss open and a starOps pilot with short blond hair emerges. Kesander Beysarus looks about as though expecting to see someone. Striding forward, the Flight Officer aims his steps towards the cell where the Imperial captive is being held. The guards standing outside salute the Corellian. The salute is returned and Kesander gestures for them to open the door, a gesture that is taken for an order and is obeyed. Crossing the threshold, he gestures again, this time for the door to be closed. And so it is, while the X-Wing driver steps towards the wall, away from the prisoner and out of the way of the Jedi Master and the others present. "Ooh, was I included in this conversation?" Captain Caiton replies in a cool, emotionless voice, turning ever so slightly towards Johanna, ignoring - temporarily - the presence of Skywalker. "You seem to be doing so well on your own. You left out powermongering. Hmm, what other good words can we use?" she asks in a musing tone of voice. "Ahh yes. Meglomaniac. Totalitarian. Ahh yes, we mustn't forget Isolationist. After all, we do have a tendency to be isolationists from time to time. Makes it much easier to calculate standard rations, by the by. After all, if the dieticians have to prepare millions of dietary rations in the standard format it's far easier to mass produce in varying sizes instead of adjusting for varying requirements per species. Did I miss anything?" She favors Johanna with a wide eyed look, "As to finding enough hours in the standard cycle, it's all about time management. And an efficient executive secretary, of course. You should look into one." Johanna looks rather unmoved. "I think you were more interesting when there wasn't word vomit coming out of your mouth," she sighs, "You're boring me. You know what would really entertain me, though?" Luke's anger echoes through the Force, spurring her on, "Don't worry, you won't have to guess. I'll tell you. I've never seen what an Imperial looks like on the inside!" The pilot seems genuinely distraught by this and makes a helpless gesture with her hands. "However... you, Doctor Caiton, have made my day. I hear that all Imperials have a lump of alloy where their heart should be. Is that true? Wait, don't answer that. You'll help me find out. I'm sure it's been decades since anyone in the Republic actually witnessed a vivisection, but hey, they didn't call me in here to make your life pleasant." Then, to Luke, "I bet they can have a table prepped right away." Captain Stone scans his ID card through a scanner the opens the double doors leading into detainment cell. The Captain returns the salute of the two marine posting guard outside, "Carry on Marines." The Captain walks towards one of the control concels where he can discuss the situation of Captain Caiton with the Chief Security Officer. Skywalker bites down the rest of his negative emotions and thoughts, looking past them and focusing on the moment, the task at hand. Piece by piece he searches beyond the echoes of pain and suffering at the hands of Lynae, as if waving away curtains of black fabric in a sea of history. However, he's stalled, emerging from his submersion in the Force as he feels the ripples of his anger being utilized by Johanna. The warning in his heart is swift, and he glances toward the dark-haired Jedi, masking his emotions from his face, but making a fast and much easier connection with the mind of the Jedi beside him. He narrows his eyes just slightly to Johanna, but continues to refrain from interjecting in her course of approach. She is more suited for this sort of thing, after all. Reverting the size of his eyes to normal, Luke turns his attention back on Caiton once more, and begins submerging himself in the Force, reattuning his mind once more. If it weren't for his skill with the Force, the task would be daunting, to say the very least. Waiting calmly while Johanna goes through her opening monolog, Captain Caiton settles into the chair with a slight adjustment of her feet on the floor. Searching Johanna's face, reading the surface emotion and speculating upon that which lies beneath. "You really should work on your timing and your material, Johanna. A bit melodramatic, emotional and prone to being long winded, your routine, that is. You should stick with what you're good at. Go right to dissecting that which annoys you. Oh, wait," she pauses, "you're not supposed to do that, are you? Sweetness and light just doesn't sit well with you, does it? Such a waste of potential, Johanna. Such a waste." She flicks a gaze towards Skywalker, "If you have a table prepped, go ahead and bring me to it. Because, if I recall correctly, the ah 'New Republic', " she uses a 'sing-song' affection to mimic Johanna's, "is above such methods. After all, why would you mirror the techniques of the Empire?" Turning her gaze back towards Johanna she smiles, a charming expression, "Would you care to try again?" The only problem is that with Johanna, what you see is usually what you get. In fact, she's surprised and darkly pleased that Luke hasn't yet done anything to curb her vicious approach. "You're a long way from 'sweetness and light', my dear. The Republic doesn't give a rip how I deal with you... whether I space you, slit you open, or just put my fist through your skull is all the same to them. You're an Imperial, remember? Re-education doesn't generally work with your sort so we don't waste our time." A few beats, then, "Come to think of it, we can just start now. Forget the table." From her boot there is the metal snick of a blade being withdrawn and the Jedi moves toward Lynae a step. "Pick the initial point of incision, Doctor. We'll go from there." What's perhaps the most curious is how Johanna has yet to use the Force to gauge the goings-on in Lynae's mind. She's reverted to an old habit for now, perhaps caught in an echo of a past interrogation. To her knowledge, however, she's never actually cut anyone up like this. Yet. Well, this has gone on far enough. The words don't come from Luke's mouth, but he reverts his focus to Johanna, and sends a very stern and clear message to her telepathically. Enough. Back down, now. Outwardly, he folds his arms over his chest, and continues to allow Johanna to take the lead, though he remains ready and willing to step in and pull Johanna back should she actually go through with her threats. I am trying to focus on her, not you. Luke's eyes flick to Johanna when he speaks to her through the Force. "I would applaud, if I weren't otherwise disposed," Captain Caiton remarks towards Johanna with a pleased expression on her face. "Giving in to that which you really want, after all, is what life is all about, Johanna. Take big bites out of life, moderation is for monks." Shifting her gaze towards the brandished blade for a moment she smiles, "Nice clean edge you have on it, as well. Much better for the initial incision. Always keep you blades and equipment in top notch condition. A lazy torturer has messy equipment, makes for sloppy technique. Now, you did better that time. Still a little melodramatic, remember to keep your subject focused on you, not on the props. I prefer to work from the outer extremities inward. Blades are nice, of course. Most subjects are afraid of having something sliced off, or of being perforated in some way. Keep in mind, though, that excision of extremities is an immediate pain then dulls as adrenaline sets in. You should focus your actions on small pains that never end. Once the subject grows accustomed to that, you increase the level. All depending, of course, on how much time you have. And the stamina and general health of the subject." Captain Caiton shakes her head, "But you have the right instincts. What else do you have in your repertoire?" From his vantage point against the wall near the door, Kesander gets an eye and ear full of what clearly seem to impress him as aggressive interogation techniques. But the StarOps pilot seems to be here merely to observe. However, whatever muted empathy the Corellian might have felt in regards to the prisoner on the basis of respect for another being is fairly stifled and extinguished by the cold, dark, clinical appreciation of the prisoner for the torture's art. Unconciously, the Corellian allows his right hand to come to rest on the grip of his blaster. However, some other thought prompts him to lift it away, resting it on his left arm as he folds his arms across his chest. Were she still in Vadim's grip, Johanna would have made good on her previous threat and simply cut Lynae open from top to bottom and then investigated the woman's innards in an attempt to determine whether, in fact, Imperials have no heart to speak of. She would probably have been laughing the whole time, too. Or if not laughing at least chuckling in some kind of self-absorbed glee and relief at having her curiosity sated. It's lucky for Lynae that Vadim doesn't call the shots with Johanna anymore. Relax, the Jedi sends back through the Force to Luke, adding on a reassuring image, I got exactly what I wanted so far. Her smile loses some of its savage edge, but not much. A nasty laugh escapes her. "You speak in such loving detail of what we consider war crimes, Doctor Caiton," she continues, sheathing the blade once more and moving in yet another step, "You even think you understand the art of inflicting pain. Gods, it's almost quaint." Why is she clapping so excitedly? "Cutting you open is so... oh, what is the word... old-fashioned." There's a stirring of the Force as the pilot makes a query into Lynae's mind, pushing further than Luke has and finding a host of images that any rational sentient would find horrific and unpseakably disturbing. Had the Jedi been any less exposed to the monstrosities of the Sith, she would probably have gifted Lynae with a stream of vomit. As it is, however, she stands and processes the information stream with a furrowed brow, half-inclined to route it to Luke so that he might do with it as he sees fit. "I'm curious, though, Lynae... if I may call you that?... when's the last time you found yourself on the receiving end of such surgical attention?" Crossing his arms, Luke merely stands and watches. In the relative secrecy of the Force, however, he begins to focus upon Lynae once more, gently molding his his senses to get more familiar with the way her mind, body and soul permeate the Force and fit into its flow. He's waiting, waiting to truly reach into the woman's mind and sense what's going on. Staring at Johanna with the attention one favors a slightly promising child, Captain Caiton's eyes remain impassive. Her injuries and such are a matter of personnel record, part of her service jacket, and if she were bothered by such things she'd never had made it this far. "A name is nothing more than a sound produced, Johanna, if I may call you that?" She sighs, patiently, "You mean you haven't lifted my file as of yet? Such .. sloppy work, Johanna. I'm disappointed." Lifting one shoulder in a shrug she replies, "5 years ago, and did you want the details? I can show you my scars if you like. I'm told the keloid pattern is rather pretty, in a way. Took quite some time to heal, by the by. Physicians, after all, just make the worst possible patients." "I think you know as well as I do that I'm not talking about injuries sustained in the line of duty," Johanna sighs in mild boredom, still sifting through Lynae's conscious and subconscious mind, tossing out information she doesn't consider relevant and finally happening upon a particularly amusing/gruesome episode involving a spleen, "Oh now, what have we here? So you *did* take out his organs while he was still alive. Come, what was the point of that? Every scientist has their role model -- who was yours? I don't feel like going through your entire tiresome cache of childhood memories, so you can spare me the banality of the experience and enlighten us all. What's the point of your work, Lynae? Are you too stupid to access a database on the anatomy and physiology of various species, or did you cheat your way through medical school and have to fake your way through the job by cutting everything open?" Where Johanna is probing, Luke is observing. He suddenly begins to get a general idea of what Johanna is going for here. As she speaks, he guides his Jedi senses to begin observing the thoughts that flick through Lynae's mind with every word Johanna speaks. The prisoner's defenses are weak, once Luke has disciplined himself to call his own distractions into submission and align his mind with Lynae's. Her mind becomes an open book as the thoughts come and go. Allowing her expression to deliberately slip into one of outrage, "How dare you suggest such a thing? I graduated in the top of my class, an entire year earlier than the average curriculum. I have never cheated on an exam in my entire career, nor am I too pitiful to have selected a role model to follow. The only model I ever needed was the Emperor, the true vision, the visionary. The truth that you are all to blinded, to pitiful to accept," Captain Caiton replies, rising slightly from the chair to lean towards Johanna, "You are so pathetic. Is that really, really the best you can do?" she asks, shaking her head before laughing quietly and sitting back in the chair. "I have trained with the best, Johanna. The best, or the worst, depending on how you see it. And I'm sure that you see it as the worst. If you think that the sight of blood sickens me, distresses me, or makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry like a little girl, I think you're in the wrong room. I've spent days with blood painted on me like a second skin. In mud up to my waist, the stench of death surrounding everything, the air thick with it. The smell of blood like thick candy on the back of the tongue. Hearing the screams of the wounded, the dying, and knowing that there are so many that I can't save. That if I waste time agonizing over the ones that I can't get too, instead of focusing on the one in front of me, then they'll both die. You think I do what I do because I can't find a better way?" She laughs again, a low ripple of sound, pure amusement. "I repeat, you are pathetic. Here's one answer for you, how about a little slap of truth, Johanna? My men will stop dying, when every last one of you, is dead. And if I happen to be the favored of the Emperor to carry out that deed, then I will revel in the moment. Is that enough to satisfy your question? Or did you want more details? Hmm? After all, after the interlude you shared with the Admiral, you must have the taste for it." Meanwhile, Johanna is busy timing the speech that Lynae has decided to give. Twice her gaze flicks to the chrono at her wrist and she nearly waves a hand as if to indicate that the doctor needs to hurry and wrap it up already. "Yes, I'm sure you're a hero. Now who's melodramatic? Gods, I don't think even the Chief of State has babbled for a stretch that long. You're one of those folks who really just likes to hear themselves jaw on." With no warning, the chair that Lynae is sitting is propelled back a good meter to meet with the wall, seemingly of its own volition. "So you've seen blood and guts. Do you want an award? We're all in the business of war, my dear. As for the Admiral, he and I have a connection that your limited little mortal mind will no doubt struggle to comprehend. You know, Lynae, for all the jabbering you just did, you didn't answer my question at all." What Luke senses doesn't please him. Trickery won't draw anything truly useful from her, aside from a fair bit of social branding for whomever conducts further interrogations. He gives Johanna a look as the chair goes flying, yet still he doesn't interfere. This isn't his forte, and he's going to need to trust her to keep herself held back. His senses remain trained on Lynae, and all the while, he is Mora Rodriga is pissed. That's all there is to say about the Admiral right now. He walks quickly, purposefully through the little battleship's corridors, the sound of boots on durasteel echoing behind him as crewmembers jump to get out of his way. Most of them have seen these flared nostrils before, and usually, they mean that somebody has screwed up quite dramatically in the recent past. Today, that somebody is very important and very much on Mora's bad side. Ridge Archilles' jaw can be seen hitting the floor as Mora blows past him, offering a simple, "Lieutenant." A few tense seconds later, he is storming out of the turbolift just as quickly, down the corridors of Main Security, through to the brig, and to one very special holding cell in which much of his immediate future will take place. One more set of durasteel doors opens before him. The Admiral doesn't offer anyone a word of greeting. What he offers is a datapad in Lynae's face. "Explain this. Now." Captain Stone crosses his arms at the chest watching the video screen surveying the cell. His one good eye peers at the characters carefully watching their everymove. It was an akward situation watching one of Lynae in this situation. She had served with him on the Conqueror for a great deal of time and she had delt with many of his wounds while serving in the Empire. Whatever emotions he may have about the situation do not appear on his crusty old face. His pocker face was holding strong not showing where he felt on the situation. Captain Stone continues to nod along as the Chief Security Officer debriefs him on Lynaes capture. While they are not in the cell, the security terminal does provide a birds eye view on the situation. Sucking in a shallow breath of air and controlling her expression with a moment of intense concentration, Captain Caiton waits for the pain in her arm to go back to the dull aching throb that it's been for the last long hours. "Perhaps you should rephrase it? Maybe I don't understand verbal inquiries. You should try writing it down, I speak and read several languages, you could pick one and try it." Shifting her attention away from Johanna and refocusing on Moralis and then, in turn, to the datapad shoved in her face. "From what I understand this is what's called a Datapad. It's a small, handheld version of a computer, used for storing and relaying information, often used as a communication device, it's a versatile contraption, all in all. Did you want to buy one?" Rodriga's eyes narrow. "Explain the General's ties to Lady Doom, you worthless sod." He quiets himself, taking a deep breath and trying to maintain some semblance of calm. "The Jedi will probably not harm you to get information. I want to make it very clear that I have no such qualms. If it ends in my court-martial, conviction, discharge, imprisonment, execution, I don't care. I'll do what it takes to find out what I have to. You have six and a half thousand lives' worth of blood on your hands. I owe you a few. So let's put you on the same page as the rest of us. The Jedi will ask questions. I will ask questions. A few other people will ask questions, and you will answer them, or I will open my mouth, I will whisper in your ear, and I will sing the song that ends eternity." Without another word to the prisoner, Rodriga turns and steps just as briskly to the same door, pausing only to lean to Luke. "You be the good cop, and I won't kill her. I think that's a good deal." He's gone. "Perhaps if I knew who those people were I might have been more creative with my answer," Captain Caiton replies with a faint smile. "Try being more specific with your questions. Not, mind you, that you'll like the answers that you get. Go ahead, Moralis. Go ahead. I'm just one person. Just one. You think that the entire Empire crumbles if I start talking? You think that my life or death, means anything in the grand scheme of things? I have been blessed with a useful life, a purposeful life. Sing the song that ends eternity," she repeats with a low laugh, shaking her head. "I've broken bigger people than you, Moralis. And, as the adage goes, anyone can be broken, if the torturer is adept enough. " She chuckles again, resting her head back against the wall, "You people really need better material." With so much transpiring, Luke has remained almost as still as a statue, only shifting to allow Moralis to enter. In his silence, he observes everything, both tangible and intangible. In his patience, he waits on the prompting of the Force. There is clearly something unique about the Imperial prisoner in their custody, yet he feels that what the Jedi were summoned for, is growing quickly to a close of purpose. Glancing toward Johanna as Moralis makes his demands and threats, he sends her yet another telpathic message, a secret shared between them only. This is going nowhere. She is thoroughly conditioned. He shares a look with Rodriga as the Admiral makes his exit, then looks back toward Lynae as she talks again. She talks so much; which will be useful if the right chain of events brings her to speak. Only Luke, in his mindset to stray far from the dark side of the Force, wishes to keep things more mild tempered. There is one way... This is where Skywalker takes the center stage. As he takes a step to center himself in front of Lynae, he draws the Force in and around him, submerging his senses until he sees only with half of his eyesight, hears with only half of his ears; until he finds himself dissassembled of self and, rather, more an object of servitude to the Force, with just one small speck of self-empowered will. Outwardly, nothing is noticed by the non-sensitive, aside from his right hand, which makes a gentle, slow, sweeping motion through the air in Lynae's direction. "You will answer every question asked, with complete honesty," he says, as if it were a simple instruction presented with clear, unchallenged authority. Yet with these words, the Jedi Master sets the Force upon Lynae, overpowering her weak mind and casting it's influence in a thick, inescapable, and undeniable way. He lowers his hand just slightly then, and doesn't wait to observe her reaction. Instead, he beckons for Johanna to follow, and turns toward the doorway left open by Moralis, stepping out and leaving the guards to their duty.